1. I rue not that slumber overcame me,
As I sigh heavily with cares oppressing,

2. Until a dove wept on an aik bough,
Repeating her moans in sweet mournfulness.

3. Had I heeded her moaning I had wept early,
Ere too late, for Layla filling my soul with her love.

4. But she wept before I, so her weeping stirred mine;
Honor the first in the race! Precedence is hers!